


Small Small World: Dreaming of Happily Ever After

by dragonspell



Series: Small Small World [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff Morgan thinks that life has a funny way of working out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Small World: Dreaming of Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Second timestamp to [Small Small World](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/154204.html). Takes place after the events of SSW. Check out 's amazing, amazing art over at her journal [here](http://smallworld-inc.livejournal.com/7897.html).

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/dragonspell/pic/0000583z)   


Life has a funny way of working out. A little bit ago, Jeff Morgan’s life had been quite different. He’d been living in a seedy, one bedroom apartment on the wrong side of town, still licking his wounds over a divorce that had happened over a year ago. Jeff supposed that he’d just been tired of trying at that point. He’d put everything that he’d had into building up his life into what it was supposed to be—pretty wife, nice house with a big backyard, a good job, and hoping for kids—only to have it yanked away in a few painful months. After a few years of a rocky marriage, the pretty wife had kept the nice house with the big backyard and told him that she had no intention of _ever_ having kids which only left Jeff with the job…which wasn’t all that great. There’s just something disheartening about the constant stream of murders and rapes and assaults and knowing that it’s going to do nothing but continue and that you can’t do a damn thing about it but watch.

Like Lucia. Lucia who Jeff had heard screaming at her bastard of a husband almost on a nightly basis, yelling that he’d better stop drinking and make something of himself and that he’d better not hit her again. It had never helped. In the morning, Lucia would always have another few bruises to add to the previous ones and she’d be averting her eyes, claiming that she was just clumsy. No matter how many times Jeff had gone over to her apartment and flat out begged her to press charges, she’d refuse. “He’s my husband,” she’d say. “If he went to jail, where would I go?” Jeff would tell her that she’d be taken care of but it never made her change her mind. And the cycle would just repeat, regular as damn clockwork.

Jeff knew that if he hadn’t had a badge stopping him, he probably would have taken out that bastard a long time ago. The first time that he’d heard Lucia screaming, he would have dragged the man right out of the damn apartment and thrown him down the stairs to give him a taste of his own medicine. But Jeff was a cop. He wasn’t supposed to do things like that. He didn’t deal out vigilante justice—he protected the weak and the downtrodden to the full extent of the law.

It was just too bad that the law had a funny way of letting people that needed it slip through the cracks.

In a lot of ways, Jeff is still that world-weary beat cop with the crummy apartment and nothing to his name but some broken dreams but, fundamentally, Jeff’s changed. He isn’t that man anymore and really hasn’t been since about six months ago, when, in an equally crummy apartment, Jeff had been just trying to do his grindstone of a job one more time. There’d been a guy waving a gun and Jeff had wanted to take the guy down before he managed to hurt somebody—somebody like the nice kid that he’d met in the street the day before or the socially stunted genius who lived just down the hall from Jeff.

Jeff had had no idea that it would lead him to this. Hadn’t had a clue…though, really, it would have been hard to have had an inkling of the future.

It’s not every day that a guy gets sucked into a comic book, after all. It’s not every day that a guy gets a second chance at life, either. In a few breath-stealing seconds, everything Jeff had ever known had been left behind and he’d been thrust into a brand new world with nothing but the clothes on his back and bewilderment. Somehow, though, that nothing had ended up translating into _something_. And that was plenty all right with Jeff.

He’d woken up on an empty street with the spitfire that he would soon come to know: the guy that Jeff had been trying to take down just a few minutes before now staring at him like a poleaxed cow. As Jeff had stared back, the man had wrenched his eyes away and pushed himself to his feet on the rough pavement and sped away, taking away Jeff’s last connection to his previous world. That had just been the beginning.

Jeff knows that he’s always had a bit of a wounded bird complex. It’s why he ended up becoming a cop. He’s just attracted to people who are a little bit broken, wanting to try and help them mend their wings, help them fly again. He’s done the same thing to countless people over the years, endlessly cycling. His ex-wife had been one of them—a pretty little girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Lucia had been one of them. Ross was one of them.

There is no denying that Ross still is Jeff’s wounded bird. Just like Jeff’s still that world-weary cop, there’s something that’s still broken in Ross and probably always will be. Ross, though, he’s a fighter. He’s learning how to adapt. Jeff just loves that he gets to be a part of that.

They’ve come a long way in six months. Within the first week, Ross had come crawling up to Jeff, asking for his attention in a roundabout kind of way. “So what are you doing later?” Ross had asked, like it was no big deal for him to be standing in front of Jeff on the street corner, casually leaning against the brick wall.

Just coming out of the precinct where Jeff had found a job two days before—he was finding that it was amazingly easy to get somewhere in the new world that he’d found himself in; all he had to do was _want_ it bad enough—Jeff had stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the guy. “What?”

“Or right now,” Ross said, shrugging and stepping closer. Jeff got a good whiff of whatever cologne the guy had on and it affected him a lot more than he thought he should admit. He couldn’t help it—there was no denying that Ross was a pretty son of a bitch. He had these big green eyes and these full pouty lips and he knew just how to use them, too. He had no problem using them at that moment, either, sliding right on up to Jeff and licking those lips slowly, staring at Jeff through his lashes. Jeff swallowed and didn’t dare move as Ross traced a hand across his shoulders. “We could do this right now if you wanted…”

And that was how Jeff had ended up back at his apartment—a much nicer one than the one he’d left behind—with a guy that he barely knew, his heart pounding way too fast and feeling more nervous than he’d felt back during senior prom and wondering if he was a little less straight than he’d previously thought.

Despite Ross’s best attempts, they hadn’t ended up having sex that night. Jeff had wanted to—God had he wanted to—but it just hadn’t felt right. It had felt like it wasn’t the right moment. Jeff had always trusted his gut and that night, it hadn’t been wrong. Ross had been angry, yeah, and ended up storming out but Jeff couldn’t regret his decision and, looking back, he knew that it had been the right choice.

Ross had come back in the morning, looking pissed off at himself for being there, and trying to take it out on Jeff. Jeff had offered the guy a cup of coffee and called in sick for the day. Like he said, he always did like the broken ones.

Jeff knew what Ross had been attempting to do that night—he’d figured it out long before Ross had confessed it to him but probably later than he should have. Ross, Jeff had found out, wasn’t used to needing anyone but, for some reason, he seemed to need Jeff. And that scared him. He’d been confusing it with lust—desperately hoping that it was, Jeff knew—and thinking that he could just fuck it out of his system and that would be that.

Six months later, Jeff thinks that’s he’s been successful at dispelling that little myth from Ross’s mind if nothing else. If their time together was proving anything, it was that whatever this thing was that’s between them? It’s nothing simple and it’s not going away anytime soon.

Jeff puts his coffee mug down on the counter—the one that’s chipped on the one side because of the first time that Ross tried to do the dishes and ended up banging it against the sink—and turns to face where Ross is lounging at their little dinning room table. Despite that fact that Jeff wouldn’t put out for nearly a solid month after they first met, Ross had ended up moving in within a week, anyway. Jeff suspects that it has as much to do with not having anyplace else to go as with Ross trying to figure out his landmine-studded feelings on the matter. Jeff had treated Ross with kid gloves, knowing a bomb just waiting to explode when he saw one, and not letting it get much beyond a little bit of kissing no matter how frustrated it made Ross.

When Jeff had finally caved, though—finally followed Ross’s coaxing into bed—they both had to admit that it had been pretty spectacular. Nothing like a month worth of blue balls—and about two years before that, in Jeff’s case—to make you appreciate being able to get off with someone else. Sex or no sex, though, Jeff had only done it because Ross had finally realized that a simple fuck wasn’t what he wanted. Or, at least, it wasn’t the _only_ thing that he wanted. And Jeff wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“Can’t believe that they’re just giving that fucker life,” Ross growls, roughly refolding the paper. “He’ll just break out again next week.” Jeff’s tempted to agree—Ross is right, after all—but he still has to keep a focus on ‘doing the right thing.’ If they don’t believe in the justice system, then who will? “Should have just killed him.”

Two months ago, Ross had managed to track down a man that went by the name of Dr. Bird—one of his former associates. It had thrown Jeff for a hard loop when he’d realized exactly what Ross’s former profession was. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one got to meet a real life super villain. Or whatever it was that Ross was classified as. Jeff wasn’t quite sure. He had known, though, from combing through the files down at the precinct, that Dr. Bird was a guy that plotted and schemed for the end of the humanity—the better to save the world for the birds—and that Ross had worked with him a couple of times.

The verdict had come back just yesterday that Dr. Bird, despite being responsible for untold destruction wherever he went, was only getting a life sentence. “It was the right thing to do,” Jeff says, sitting down at the table next to Ross. It’s trite but it’s what he’s got.

“Screw that,” Ross says, throwing the paper down on the table. “The right thing to do, my ass. The right thing to do would have been to see if he could fly like his damn birds.” He runs a hand through his hair, tousling the short spikes. Ross’s hair is shorter now than what it used to be. He’d startled Jeff when he’d come home with it a few weeks after moving in with Jeff. When Jeff had asked him about it, Ross had just shrugged and said, “Thought I’d try something new.” Then he’d kissed Jeff, soft and sweet, and walked away, not pressing for anything more. That was when Jeff first thought that they were starting to make progress. It looks good on him, spikes that are glinting gold in the early morning light that’s filtering in through the half-closed blinds. Ross takes a sip of his coffee and cuts his eyes over to Jeff and the message is loud and clear. The only reason why Ross _hadn’t_ killed Dr. Bird was because Jeff had asked him not to.

Jeff snorts and lets the subject drop. It’s a familiar debate with them and he’s not looking to rehash it at the moment. “You going to be in for awhile?” Jeff asks, instead. It’s another familiar topic but one that he doesn’t mind broaching. After all, he has to know. Ross tends to be rather like a tomcat, spending days at a time elsewhere before moseying back home. It hasn’t escaped Jeff’s notice, though, that, lately, Ross has been spending more and more time at home. It’s like he’s lost the reason to keep running away. Jeff would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that.

Ross shrugs in his typical style, crossing his arms, cupping his hands around his elbows. “Was thinking about it,” he says and, though his head doesn’t move, his eyes skitter sideways again to look at Jeff. There’s a question packed in there and Jeff doesn’t miss it.

“That’s good,” Jeff replies, letting his voice take on all the easy warmth that he’s feeling at the moment and watching Ross’s posture start to relax. “I was thinking that maybe we could go see a movie tomorrow.”

Ross smiles, small and genuine and it makes Jeff’s heart clench, just like it does every time he sees it. “You gonna take me out on a date, Jeff?” he teases. “Do I gotta dress up and everything?”

Jeff grins down at the table. “Only if you’re actually going to wear a dress,” he shoots back and Ross bursts out laughing.

“Maybe I will,” he threatens, unwinding himself from his chair. He leans over toward Jeff, invading Jeff’s personal space until his face is just inches away. His hands are braced around Jeff’s thigh, resting against the chair and pressing against Jeff’s body, entirely too close to Jeff’s crotch for the move to be anything remotely innocent. “You shouldn’t give me ideas like that, Jeffrey.” Jeff shivers at the throaty purr in Ross’s voice. “I might just take you up on them.” He leans forward those last few inches and presses his lips to Jeff’s.

Jeff’s hands raise automatically to cradle Ross’s head, holding him still when Jeff moves into the kiss, pressing Ross for more. Ross chuckles and opens his mouth, tongue licking out to tease Jeff before Jeff pushes him backward and kisses him for real.

It’s getting to be a familiar dance with them, this careful back and forth, but it’s one that Jeff doesn’t think that he’ll ever get tired of. Ross pushes and Jeff gives—Jeff pushes and Ross gives. It’s something that works for them.

He fumbles for Ross who ends ups smacking him away, laughing, and then leading him down the hall to the bedroom. Jeff follows, his pants tight and walking is almost painful, because he likes where this is going. A little while ago, they probably wouldn’t have even thought to move—would have started something right there at the table—or they only would have made it as far as the couch—like their first time—but, now they both realize that neither one is going anywhere and it’s okay to take their time. And that the bed’s so much more comfortable.

Ross grins as he coaxes Jeff to the bed and has him lay down on his back. “I’m going to take care of you, old man,” he teases, pulling off his shirt. The slam about Jeff’s age is also familiar, just like the affection in it. Jeff doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s kind of touched by it nowadays. Ross putting him down flat on his back, too, is a sly wink at Jeff and his bad back. As long as Ross keeps giving him those bedroom eyes, though, Jeff thinks that Ross can insult him or tease him all he wants. Especially with the way that the man shucks his pants—Ross never wears underwear—and climbs up on top of Jeff to straddle him, completely and utterly naked. He rocks forward, letting the heavy bulge in Jeff’s jeans ride the crack of his ass and smiles down at Jeff, his hands sliding slowly up Jeff’s chest while he licks his lips like a cat with a bowl full of cream.

Jeff’s just thankful that he’s left his teenage years in the dust otherwise this probably would have been all over by now. He got miles of gorgeous skin above him, all nicely displayed for him and he can touch wherever he wants. Jeff groans and skates his fingers over Ross’s thighs, past his hips and onto his stomach. Ross’s cock is hard and ready, resting against Jeff’s chest but Jeff ignores it for the moment. He’ll spend plenty of time worshipping it later.

Ross purrs and thrusts subtly, rubbing his dick against Jeff’s shirt, no doubt getting off on the fact that Jeff’s fully clothed and while he’s naked. For some reason that Jeff hasn’t quite figured out, yet, Ross likes that power imbalance. It’s not something that he’s going to ask either, because he gets the feeling that it’s something about Ross liking the fact that he can be so vulnerable in front of Jeff—hand over power just like that—and Jeff doesn’t want to bring attention to it in case it would make Ross stop. Ross might like the feeling of being able to be vulnerable in front of Jeff (for the first time ever, if Jeff was getting Ross’s history right), but Jeff likes the feeling of Ross feeling safe enough to trust him with it. He isn’t going to abuse that.

Jeff’s hands continue on up Ross’s chest until they are just cupping his pecs, thumbs gently flicking over his nipples because Jeff loves how it makes Ross gasp and lean into the touch. Ross doesn’t disappoint this time either, tossing his head back and rocking a little harder against Jeff, getting some more friction. He lets Jeff repeat the motion and then he’s grabbing a hold of Jeff’s left hand and dragging it up to his mouth. He grins down at Jeff and slowly sucks one of Jeff’s fingers into his mouth, tongue licking all around it, stroking it, getting it wet.

Jeff presses upward, pushing himself against Ross’s ass because _damn_. If there’s one thing that the boy knows how to do well, it’s how to use that damn mouth of his. And he knows exactly what he’s doing to Jeff, too, knows what he’s reminding Jeff of, and it turns his smile just a little bit wicked. It’s not exactly off putting because Jeff has lost count at just how many times he’s seen that evil little smile wrapping around his cock. Sometimes, a glance at Ross’s smirk is all it takes to get Jeff hard these days.

Ross slowly works over each finger on Jeff’s hand, making sure that he doesn’t miss a spot, acting like he’s got all the time in the world and that there’s nothing that he’d rather being doing at the moment. It drives Jeff nuts and Ross knows it but Ross also isn’t fooling anybody—Jeff’s well aware of just how much the man likes to indulge his oral fixation. There’ll be times when Jeff will be just sitting in a recliner, watching TV and Ross will come and perch on the arm and start sucking on Jeff’s fingers like they’re his own personal pacifiers. Jeff doesn’t complain; he rather likes it. And he definitely likes it when Ross gives Jeff’s cock the same attention—like all the times when Jeff will be cooking or doing the dishes or talking on the phone and Ross will drop to his knees, just like that, and start sucking away like he’s starving for it. He’d stay down there for hours, too, if Jeff could just last long enough. Jeff just has yet to make it longer than sixteen minutes—his personal best.

So it’s only natural that Ross’s mouth makes Jeff think dirty, dirty thoughts. He brought it on himself.

“Gonna last, lover?” Ross says, all teasing banter as he rolls his hips backward, his balls dragging up over Jeff’s cock and making him shudder. “You’re not going to be a quick draw, are you?”

And Jeff might be laying down but that doesn’t mean that he has to take that. He bites back a laugh and smacks Ross’s ass. Ross’s jaw drops and he gasps, pushing his ass back towards Jeff’s hand and looking better than anybody had a right to. “Damn tease,” Jeff mock-growls, and smacks him again. Moaning, Ross wiggles on top of Jeff, obviously inviting more and Jeff obliges him. He can’t get a good angle in this position but apparently it’s good enough if Ross’s little purrs of encouragement and how he’s sticking his ass out for Jeff is anything to go by.

It’s yet another thing that Jeff figured out about Ross in the past few months—Ross likes a little bit of pain to go with his pleasure. Jeff knows, though, that that little streak is a lot wider than Jeff’s comfortable with. There are just some things that he’s not going to do but Ross seems to be okay with that. Jeff just tries to channel the kink into things that he’s okay with doing—the spanking, a little bit bondage here and there—and that keeps Ross satisfied.

It’s another part of their give and take. Jeff gives Ross that, and Ross gives him the soft and slow morning sex that he knows that Jeff’s crazy for. It’s a tradeoff but they both enjoy it. Jeff kind of likes it when he’s got Ross all wound up underneath him, his ass red from a good spanking and promising that he’s going to be a “good boy,” that he’ll behave. And it’s Ross now, not Jeff, who’s wide awake at six in the morning, fingers running teasingly over Jeff’s cock until Jeff finally gives in and opens his eyes.

Ross, Jeff knows, could do this forever but Jeff’s just not going to last that long. “Gotta let me unzip my pants if you want it in you,” Jeff says, moving this along and Ross grins at him.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He reaches down and undoes Jeff’s fly, sliding his cock out and Jeff has to take a second to breathe steadily and get a hold of himself, bring himself back away from that edge. Miraculously, Ross allows him that—probably because he’s well aware that he just can’t push Jeff on this. And that if Jeff comes early, that’s it for the happy-happy funtimes for the better part of the night. In the meantime, Jeff pulls off his shirt. Ross might get off on him being fully clothed but Jeff’s a little bit more old-fashioned.

Laughing quietly, Ross leans over and grabs to lube, efficiently prepping himself. Some days he’ll tease but most often he won’t. By the time that they get this far, Ross tends to be all business. Jeff can appreciate that.

Ross slides himself down onto Jeff’s cock with a moan and Jeff’s seeing stars. Jesus but that feels nice. Always does. Ross is warm and tight around him and he has to bite his lip to try and focus. It’s all too tempting to just thrust up into that heat and stay there.

“Mmmm,” Ross moans running his hands over Jeff’s bare chest. “Yeah.” He’s starting to rock himself back and forth, lifting himself up and then coming back down, fucking himself on Jeff’s cock. Jeff keeps his eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this because he doesn’t think that he’ll ever get sick of any of this. He loves watching Ross work for it, getting them both off. He loves seeing Ross lose himself in the simple mind-numbing pleasure of fucking.

Jeff squeezes Ross’s hip with one hand and brings the other up to lick the palm, giving it a little bit of wetness for when he wraps it around Ross’s cock. Ross’s rhythm stutters when Jeff’s fist closes around him but he quickly recovers, thrusting into Jeff’s grip with a smile. His smile turning devious, Ross slowly runs his hands up over his own stomach, good as any stripper and Jeff swears quietly. This is gonna be over before it even begins if the tease keeps that up.

Smirking because he knows exactly what he’s doing to Jeff, Ross stops, instead bracing his hands against Jeff’s thighs so that he can lean back and finally get the angle that he loves. Each down thrust causes his dick to jump in Jeff’s grip and Jeff narrows his eyes to watch Ross ride him slow and deliberate, to watch the sweat bead along Ross’s collarbone and drip down his body.

Even though Jeff is laying back and letting Ross do most of the work, he’s even feeling exhausted by the time that Ross’s rhythm starts to go erratic. He’s ready to come—they both are. Jeff tightens his hand on Ross’s dick and Ross bites down hard on his lip as he pulses, spilling onto Jeff’s chest. He’s spasming around Jeff, tightening down. Jeff grunts, riding it out as Ross loses it on top of him. With a shudder, Ross collapses forward, catching himself against Jeff and stays there for a few agonizing seconds before he finally looks up at Jeff. “That was good,” he purrs and Jeff nods.

“Looked like it,” he rasps and Ross smirks. He knows that Jeff’s strung out right now and he likes it.

“Need something?” he asks but it’s a rhetorical question. He’s already bracing himself against Jeff and still working himself up and down, continuing despite the fact that he’s already spent. Jeff growls in reply and closes his eyes, focusing on achieving his own orgasm. It’s all too easy.

Ross moans when Jeff comes, a low soft noise deep in his throat that makes Jeff shiver. Ross rocks back onto him, getting Jeff as deep inside as possible, and rolls his hips languidly. “Mmm…”

When Jeff collapses back against the bed, ready to sleep for the next week, Ross pulls off of him with a slight hiss and slips off the bed, disappearing for a few minutes, leaving Jeff in the quiet darkness of the room smelling the thick musk of sweat and sex. Jeff breathes it in deep and sighs contentedly, already starting to doze. He stirs when a warm, wet cloth slides over his stomach, wiping up the mess that had been drying on his skin. Jeff grins and Ross climbs back into bed beside him, muttering about how he’s become a nurse and that Jeff’s one step away from being diapered. Jeff ignores the dig and cuddles Ross close, loving how Ross doesn’t even bother to fight him anymore. He just accepts it.

Ross’s hand run down Jeff’s back, following the line of his spine until he reaches Jeff’s ass, cupping a cheek and lifting it. “Maybe next time,” he says casually, “I’ll fuck you.”

Jeff snorts, his grin still firmly in place. Ross has been saying the same thing nearly every day but yet he still winds up climbing on top of Jeff’s lap. “Think you’re up for that?” Jeff wouldn’t mind.

Ross doesn’t answer, just lays his head against Jeff’s chest. It’s answer enough. _Maybe some day._ Jeff doesn’t know what is holding Ross back but he does know that it’s something big and it’s not something that he’s going to push. Ross will tell him when he’s ready.

Jeff is more than willing to wait.

  
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](http://pics.livejournal.com/dragonspell/pic/0000674e)   
[Art Post](http://smallworld-inc.livejournal.com/7897.html)

 

Jeff wakes to Ross whispering to the room at large. “No,” he’s saying. “Get out of here! Go…iron something or something. He’s sleeping, don’t touch him! No, you can’t watch.” It’s another thing that Jeff doesn’t understand about Ross. He doesn’t know who it is that Ross frequently talks to—sometimes in a normal voice, often with an annoyed tinge—and he never pries. Just another thing about Ross for Jeff to eventually discover.

Whoever it is, though, it must be someone with some odd hobbies. Like the ironing thing. Jeff came home once to find Ross having a furious conversation with the thin air about proper ironing procedures and “why should I fucking care?” Jeff had noticed, however, that the next day, nearly every shirt in the house had been perfectly ironed.

As Ross whispers in the night about “pervy fucking pea fetishes,” Jeff just smiles and goes back to sleep. It should maybe say something about Jeff that he can sleep peacefully beside a man that—for all accounts and purposes—seems to be talking to himself but it just goes to show what Jeff can get used to. This is his life now.

And he’s happy with it.

  


 

More art over at 's [Art Post!](http://smallworld-inc.livejournal.com/7897.html)


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